When a Scot Ties the Knot (Castles Ever After #3)(54)

“One day, one of the local farmer’s girls told me there was to be a Christmas pantomime in the village square. I was curious to see it, but I didn’t dare tell anyone. I crept out and walked all the way into the village myself to see it. I pushed my way to the front of the crowd. It was wondrous. The costumes, the joking. There was a man who juggled flaming batons. I laughed until my sides hurt. For a few minutes, I forgot all about the sadness at home. And then . . .”

When she paused, Logan reached over and took her hand.

“I don’t know precisely what happened,” she went on. “A horse startled, perhaps?” Her brow wrinkled with concentration. “Maybe a dog got loose. I can’t recall. The whole crowd went into a panic, and I was caught in the middle with no one to protect me. If I hadn’t managed to wedge myself under the scaffolding, I surely would have been trampled. I still don’t remember how I got home. I only remember that it was dark, and so cold. I stuffed my frock in the coal bin to hide the rips and stains, then spent the night trembling in my bed. I thought surely they’d find me out in the morning. They would have heard the news from the village, or they would have noticed the frock. But when my father woke me, it was to say my mother had slipped away in the night. So no one discovered my misbehavior. And I never told them.”

“No one?”

“How could I? Confess that while my mother lay on her deathbed, I’d stolen away to laugh at a pantomime? I was so ashamed.”

He shook his head. “You were a girl. You wanted a respite from grieving and sadness. That’s nothing to be ashamed about.”

“It was difficult to believe that as a child, though. For the longest time, I felt my timidness was a deserved punishment. You see, I’ve tended to freeze in crowded places ever since. Markets, busy streets, theaters . . .”

“Ballrooms,” he finished for her.

“Ballrooms.” She lifted her shoulders, then let them drop. “Whenever there are too many -people around, I become that seven--year--old girl again. Alone and frozen with fear.”

Logan wasn’t sure what to say. He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. “It’s understandable.”

“Is it? Because I don’t understand it, really. Is it truly the crowd that frightens me? Maybe I’m still punishing myself for an old mistake. Or perhaps it’s superstition. I’m afraid that if I enjoy myself, something terrible will happen.”

She swallowed. “In any event, there was no way I could face a London season, and no way I could explain the reasons to my father. So I lied. And years later, here we are.”

“Here we are.”

“See?” She forced a smile. “I told you the truth was stupid. Just another foolish story of Maddie Gracechurch making one mistake and then letting it ruin the next ten years of her life. It’s a pattern, apparently.”

He regarded her, thoughtful. “That pattern isna what I see when I look at you.”

“It isn’t?”

“No.”

In the dim, misty interior of the kirk, her eyes were pools of dark liquid. “Then what do you see?”

He waited a moment before responding. “I see a bug.”

She laughed in surprise. Just as he’d hoped she would.

“No, truly,” he said. “One of those insects that starts out as a grub and then makes itself a case. What’s it called?”

“A cocoon?”

“Right. It makes itself a cocoon and goes into hiding. And when it finally emerges, it’s something entirely different. Something beautiful.”

“Well, sometimes it’s beautiful. A great many insects make themselves cocoons. It’s not all pretty moths and damselflies, you know. If you’re right, and I’ve been hiding in a cocoon, I could emerge to find that I’m an earwig or a termite.”

Logan doubted it. He knew what he’d seen when those velvet drapes had been pushed aside in the dressmaker’s shop, and it hadn’t resembled an earwig. But she needed to discover that for herself.

He said, “There’s only one way to find out.”

“You’re saying I should screw up my courage and go to the ball.”

He nodded. “You have more courage than you give yourself credit for. You’re brave enough to take me on, and that’s not nothing.”

“I suppose that’s true. You are rather formidable.”

“There are trained soldiers who fled at the sight of me. You’ve always held your ground.”

“It must seem unspeakably ridiculous, having to coax me to go to a party when you’ve led troops into battle. How did you manage it without being frightened?”

“Battle, do you mean?”

She nodded.

“I didn’t. I was always frightened. Terrified, every time.”

“Oh.”

“But it helped to know I wasna alone. That there was always someone at my back who wouldna desert me.” He pulled her arm through his, tucking it close. “We’ll be in it together. I’ll be there for you. I sure as hell wouldna be at the Beetle Ball for anyone else.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

As if it were impulse, she kissed his cheek.

And then, as if it were destiny, he bent and kissed her lips.

The embrace was brief and chaste. But sweet. So sweet. And somehow more affecting than any kiss he’d known before. With Madeline, or with anyone.